Tag Archives: fresh blood

i stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl.

6″ Gold Blade// The Birthday Party.


i stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl.

oh baby, those skinny girls, they’re so quick to murder.

-the birthday party

* song 2 of 2. of what spared humanity – July 22nd 2013.
or let it continue to suckle on free tit one more day.
song RULES!!!


And I never wanted your two cents.


death she must have been your will

All those messages you sent clear as day
but in the night
Oh I couldn’t get it right

and eagle eagle talon and scream
I never once lived in-between
I was on the fence
and I never wanted your two cents.

* 1 of 2 songs that made me not want to destroy humanity. or at least to spare it a day…

Timber Timbre Demon Host.


the dark poetic boys are writing calling me deep.

The watercolour depicts Picasso and his lover in bed. (1902).

The watercolour depicts Picasso and his lover in bed. (1902).

I’m laying in the darkness listening to the heavyset neighbor woman’s laugh through the window screen.
And all I can think of are a million different ways to say the same thing –
‘I love you’

Not her. Not the heavyset woman. A man. That man. The man.
The one person who with one thought vibrates rings true through your whole being.
I want to fuck the world and forget.
but I can’t. and I won’t.
How can one person mean so much.
And why can’t I just shut up and play dumb. Not say these things out loud.
The dark poetic boys are writing calling me deep. And they’re attractive. but I can’t.

I watch the North in the darkness.
As the heavyset neighbor woman laughs through my screen window.
My body and being vibrates
With a million and one different ways to say, ‘I love you’.
to one man.

the only sound God allowed in this morning -were his hands.

i reached his expression in this morning hallway 
but the light was there all along 
in his eyes 
he wanted me.

he wanted me to taste him.

i got a little lost stepping from my bathroom.

he considered me the find of the century. 

to kiss

to kiss 

to kiss.

the only sound God allowed in this morning 
were his hands 
and a glass bottle shatter.

it takes two hands 
to reach me.


an un-enthralling hard-on .

I was born to climax. 

My glorious plan is to keep moving.

Are moving picture plans foiled when you realize your geometric turquoise blue lady-wears wore themselves inside out all day?

Beyond that. felt like a rockstar. Worked hard. 
Worked really hard.
to help people 
and lift my co-workers spirits. 
Closer I get to being a doctor – yep the worse the handwriting – the more panty malfunctions. 

I definitely rock-starred this one out of the ball park today. 

Idiot with undergarments clinched it. 


So I’m moving. In a devastated devastatingly fashion.

If I stop myself…well screw even the thought. Pipe tobacco smoke. 
My dad. and the belief leather bound fairy tales 
and black bars across adolescent interesting case eyes staring out of medical textbooks 
went like a well spread PB&J together.

One room called, ‘the study’. 
One single chance – I had of ever being normal –
thrown through the squeaky clean window pane at the backyard
and 2 rigor mortis shallow grave Guinea Pigs. 
dead kid dreams fly.

I don’t like secrets. do you partake?

an un-enthralling hard-on . 
What do you expect me to do with that…?

It’s a rat race 
that’s more of a meandering 
with sinners and $5 shoe shiners.